Habibi
by neechan100
Summary: Kaiba x O.C. Unexpected events occur when Kaiba hires a dance instructor and business and pleasure become one. A work in progress.
1. Envelope

**HABIBI**

**Envelope**

Disclaimer: Though I wish I owned Yu-Gi-Oh, I do not. To those that seek me out, read the web address on your screen. IT SAYS !

On the other hand, I enjoy this series and it is an honor to make a series within a series. Without further ado:

--

"Mr. Kaiba will see you now."

The tall, mahogany portals opened to a brightly lit, plush office. Kaiba sat on his desk. Ginina entered in the confident stride that befit her model career. She was almost as tall as he was at 6'2", with long, tan legs anchored by chic black and white stilettos. Her figure was a little heavier and curvier than most models these days, and she flaunted herself in a tight-fitting, knee-length white Chanel dress with a black stripes at the side seams. She had straight but poufy brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, and with her mirror-like JLo shades complimenting her strong cheekbones and jaw, she looked severe and aloof. It was only until she removed them that she exposed the warmth in her cat-shaped green eyes, sloped nose, and full, sensual lips.

There were no greetings. Kaiba set an envelope on the desk and pushed it towards her.

"For privacy," he added, speaking Italian.

Ginina's mouthed curved in a smile that was both charming and seductive. She picked it up and looked inside and laughed. "_Amore, _you must think I'm a cheap whore." Her voice was a smooth alto. "So many zeros."

"_Prego_?" Kaiba replied shortly. The price was a huge sum. l"What do you want?"

Without conviction she slapped the envelope back on the desk. Her smile widened. "I came for a proper goodbye. I'm leaving for Firenze in a few hours…and it is my wish to see your face one last time."

Though flattered, Kaiba was skeptical, and he handed the envelope back to her. Women could not separate things that were separate. "You act as though we were in love," he scoffed. Kaiba had hired Ginina, a twenty-six-year-old Italian model for a job that eventually mixed business with pleasure. "It was purely physical." Their six month affair was over and they had gotten from each other what they really wanted--publicity. Ginina's halting fashion career was jumpstarted when paparazzi noticed her with the handsome Japanese CEO. And for Kaiba to be seen with a top Italian model made him and his corporation more mainstream.

"Well of course it was physical," she concurred, "and I do not love you. You do not love me. But even in an intimate relationship there are feelings. You have given me some of your soul, and I have given you some of mine."

"Feh. True, if you believe in that rubbish."

She extended her hand to him. "Goodbye." They shook hands.

He watched her for the last time. Ginina fixed her sunglasses on her forehead, turned away, and opened the portal. Just before she left, she said, "There is love for you out there too, Seto."

_Yeah right,_ he thought. _How corny._

_The portals closed. Kaiba let out a deep breath, and opened his drawer. His eyebrows raised. Ginina's envelope was inside. She hadn't taken the money._

_--_

It is highly unlikely Ginina will make another appearance, but stay tuned! And review!

Also, the title _Habibi_ means "darling" in Arabic.


	2. A Stroke of Luck

**A Stroke of Luck**

Here is the introduction of my O.C. _Kinokiita_ by the the way means "smart". :)

--

_Deep breath. In, out. In, out._

On the twenty-first floor of the Kaiba Corp. building, in a plush reception room just outside the president's office, Avril Nelle clenched her armrests in an attempt to calm her mind before the interview. _Why am I so nervous_? She thought. This was nothing like her interview for her current part-time job at the club _La Llave,_where she had to memorize a skit in five minutes and improvise as best she could. The conservative chic mode of corporate culture shouldn't have intimated her. And like many people she had gotten this interview not only because she knew what she knew but because of who she knew--her Little Brother, Mokuba Kaiba.

Two years ago she got into the prestigious Kinokiita University and wanted to pursue a psychology major. The department had different programs, including the Big-Brother/Sister-Little Brother-Sister After-School Project, where college kids mentored kids in elementary and middle school. It was here she met then ten-year-old Mokuba, who was the smartest, funniest and sweetest kid she had ever met. Since then they had become very good friends--he even called her the best big sister he never had. Most of the kids at the After-School Project were from typical middle-class families, but Mokuba was not. He arrived to school every day in either a limo or some other luxury vehicle, and Avril was sure his mobile plan was higher than her rent. He often spoke of his brother Seto--a highly successful CEO--in fond terms, but Avril was a little troubled that she had never met this Seto in two years, and beneath Mokuba's worship she could tell that the two of them didn't hang around each other very much.

Last week, Avril was late to meet Mokuba at the program. "Sorry," she apologized to him. "I had to pick up a job application…"

"But you have a cool job already, don't you?" he asked.

"I need to get another one. My rent's getting really expensive."

Mokuba rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "My brother Seto needs someone who can teach him dance and be an escort." He saw her shocked expression and quickly added, "Not _that _kind of escort. You see, he's in public a lot and whenever we go to 'events'"--Mokuba made quotations with his fingers--"nowadays there's always time set aside to dance. He doesn't like it, but it helps his image and the corporation's image if he participates."

"I see. What kind of 'events' are these?"

"Charity dinners, award ceremonies, stuff like that." Mokuba rolled his eyes. "Sometimes I have to come along. It sucks, 'cause they're boring."

Avril gave it skeptical consideration. It was only until Mokuba mentioned the figures--a very _GOOD _salary--that she was convinced. Pleased, he said he would talk to his brother about it and should be getting an interview soon.

"Excuse me, Ms. Nelle."

"Huh?" Avril looked at the secretary whose desk sat beside the portals leading into President Kaiba's office.

"The president will see you now."

"Uh, thank-you."

_Deep breath. Avril stood up. Now she could walk past the portals with courage._


	3. Hotseat

**Hotseat**

This is pretty much a buffer and a way to give info…J

--

Bright, bright light obscured Avril's view of President Kaiba's office. After her eyes adjusted to its intensity, she seated herself on one of the three leather-upholstered seats in front of his desk. _Damn,_ she thought. The office was about the size of the first floor in a middle-class Japanese home. Behind the desk was an entire wall made of glass, therefore the source of light. Tall, imposing bookshelves lined the other walls, filled with classics, hourglasses, bottled ships, and telescopes. Even the pyramid paperweights on the desk (if she wasn't mistaken) were solid gold.

Someone was coming. Avril straightened in her seat.

"Oh yeah? Let's see what will happen to your funding if the terms don't suit Kaiba Corp. Then we can talk." There was a side-door between two bookshelves, from which Kaiba entered. Although confident she could feel his demand for superiority, which made up every centimetre of his slender, six-foot-two frame. President Kaiba was handsome enough to merit publicity attention. He had a long, narrow face but a classic, strong jaw line, as well as a sharp nose and cheekbones, all of which gave him the appearance of the haughty metro-aristocrat he was. His dark brown hair was simply cut and framed his pale face without making him look overly severe or too model-like, though Kaiba's eyes were his most striking features: Avril admired their intense cerulean color and angular shape, but they were too intense. A person less self-assured as she might have reclined under their cold gaze.

Kaiba seated himself and glanced at his watch. "You are?"

"Avril Nelle, pleased to meet you." She extended her hand. After what seemed to her as a skeptical pause, he shook hands. Avril was surprised that his grip was firm and warm. _If it were possible, perhaps liquid steel would run through those veins of his_, she thought sarcastically. _Here it goes…_

"President Seto Kaiba." He took out a sheet from his desk drawer, a sheet Avril recognized as her resume, and skimmed through it. Then Kaiba leaned back his chair and fixed her with the same steady, analytical gaze and unsmiling expression. "If you would clarify your current occupation for me."

"There is no exact word for my occupation," he explained, "in as much a 'words'. La Clavefeatures many things including dance, skits, and music. Those three are my focus."

"I see." His tone was emotionless. "Yet you have no teaching experience."

"I am a very good dancer," she insisted without letting the desperation become obvious. "I've been doing this for two years, and as long as you are willing to learn I will teach."

He didn't look convinced. _What an ass_, Avril thought in frustration. She could accept competition and rejecting in this job market, but Kaiba was irritating her. "Can you handle being in the public eye?"

"I will handle it."

"That means being the subject of rumors, tabloid magazines, and bright lights."

"I can manage, Mr. Kaiba."

"Can you make time for my scheduled events?"

"Mr. Kaiba, with all due respect, if I couldn't make the time I wouldn't accept your interview." She tried to smile a little, for her own nervousness to ease. It might have been easier if Kaiba smiled back. "Are there any other outstanding points I should know?"

Kaiba folded his arms. For a moment she thought she offended him and lost the offer right there. For the first time since he walked in his face had an expression; it was nothing immediately fathomable, but Avril could a mix of mild surprise and contempt in his posture.

But he said nothing. Kaiba reached into his drawer and took out a folder. Inside were two copies of a contract. He handed one to Avril and kept one for himself. Avril skimmed through the terms and conditions; apparently, Kaiba had had since there was a huge clause about contacting him. He would provide the attire needed for very formal, red-carpet events, which Avril didn't mind. She most appreciated the salary. For three days out of the week and two hours per session, her wages would cover six-eighths of her expenses, which meant she only had to work at La Clave on Saturday nights. If anything, Kaiba was generous; most of her background made less. The contract was agreeable. It was signed. The interview was over, and it went well. Avril breathed a sigh of relief, shook his hands, then left.

--

Kaiba mused over the seventh tutor. He would be annoyed if she was anything like the first five. Akiko, Number One, wanted the job for "conversation" and got too friendly with his mobile number. Number Two and Three had professional degrees from top liberal arts universities in Asia, but they were poor teachers.

He regretted the fourth tutor, Cristina Schwartz-Hitzig. She was a German national of a prestigious family who donated to the same charity as Kaiba did; in fact, she was hired after he met her at a charity event--partly because of talent, partly because of attraction. After the first lesson he slept with her a few times until she told him she was engaged and "needed advice" about marrying her fiancé or not. Kaiba didn't talk to her again.

Number Five, Morita Harume, was the worst of the lot. He had to fire her before lessons even began, and even then, tabloids ran with her claims that she was his lover of five years and pregnant with his child. Not only was Kaiba's reputation hurt but so was his stock…it was crazy. These five women (and then with Ginina, six) yielded not much more for him than stalkers or trouble or sex.

He glanced at the name several times over. Avril Nelle. Avril Nelle. "Feh," he said contemptuously. Mokuba's "friend" was really something; nobody around the building dared to give him, "…with all due respect, but…," for any reason. He studied her name again and realized it was French, yet she looked a little like the Brazilian minority around Domino. Nelle had an amber-brown complexion but her hair, styled in a short pixie cut (and probably straightened), was honey-blonde. At first he thought she dyed her hair, but Kaiba noticed her eyebrows were not much darker and the fine hairs on her forearms were very light. The rest of her features were otherwise ethnic. She had a heart-shaped face, large black eyes that curved upwards at the corners, and full lips.

For whatever reason Kaiba was unable to recognize her as a beautiful woman and move on; this was the case with Cristina (unfortunately) and Gianina. Something else lingered. It irritated him. He had work to do. There was nothing to be gained by distracting himself.


	4. Cause You Got A Long Way To Go

**Chapter 4: Cause You Got A Long Way To Go**

* * *

**Cause You Got A Long Way To Go**

This one is dedicated to the very talented and sexy Aventura, who wrote "Que solo por un beso".

Disclaimer: I do not own Aventura's song, "Que solo por un beso", nor do I make money off of it.

--

Kaiba HQ was divided into three levels. The first level regulated the bottom rungs of the corporate chain. The change between the twenty-ninth and thirtieth floors was drastic, as the cosmopolitan setting fit the higher-ranking executives. But few had access above the fiftieth floor, which was reserved for President's Kaiba residence. There were several apartments (though he used only one) as well as spaces for his recreation--mostly his old passion for Duel-Monsters, martial arts, technology development, but there was also a small section reserved for dance.

At four Kaiba changed into the most casual wear he had--an open-collar dress shirt, khaki trousers and dress shoes. Then he took the elevator to the dance room, where Nelle should have been waiting. The door was partly open. He peered inside.

_Damn._

Nelle was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed and her foot balanced on its heel, as though a little impatient. She looked fine--no, better than fine. Her attire was made up of a short-sleeved black leotard with a light blue miniskirt, black legwarmers and dance heels--an attire that showed off both the strength and shape of her calves and full thighs, the curves in her hips and butt in contrast her narrow waist. Her posture was casual but graceful at the same time, even as she slouched and crossed one leg over the other lazily. But in a second Kaiba regained his composure and entered the room.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Kaiba," she said. Her posture straightened.

"What are your plans for today?" Kaiba demanded.

"A review of the basics; but first, I must know how far you are." Nelle walked to the other side of the room where there was an i-Pod dock. She selected "The Blue Danube" before coming very close to Kaiba. "You will lead."

_Easy_, he thought., and he couldn't help but notice with amusement that Nelle only come up to his chin, even in heels. He almost had to reach for her waist and her arm was vaulted in the air to reach his. She counted, "One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three…," before concluding, "Stop."

The sound system turned off.

"You're not leading," Nelle told him. "I should not be leading you. You should be leading me. Like this." She demonstrated leading with an imaginary partner. "You see? As opposed to this." Again, she showed him his mistake with an imaginary partner. "Let's try again. On, replay."

The music came alive again. Kaiba shrugged off his mistake. _I know what I'm doing_.

But after only a few beats Nelle said again, "Stop." She demonstrated a leading dancer again, with sharper, quicker steps. "Like this, Mr. Kaiba."

"That's exactly what I did," he retorted in irritation.

"You did this--watch." She demonstrated his movements before, which appeared hardly different from her lead. "That style of leading is correct--but only if your partner is close to you in height, otherwise you'll drag her. If you could modify your lead."

Kaiba tried it a third time before Nelle was satisfied, although she remarked, "It still needs work. And," she added, "relax. Your movements are stiff."

"This is a waltz," Kaiba reminded her sarcastically.

"But still, it has flexibility. Within a movement, you move."

_Who the hell is this chick_? Kaiba demanded. He was irked with this comment, though without good reason. On one hand, she wasn't insulting him and only critiqued him as he would critique others, but on the other hand he was unaccustomed to criticism from inferiors. "The Blue Danube" was soon changed to a faster beat, and Nelle evaluated his pace. Finally, she drilled him with techniques of the genre and decided, "Mr. Kaiba, you'll need to start from scratch."

"Whatever you see fit," he snapped. "So teach already."

"Your pace is okay, and your techniques are…accurate, but you need more feeling in them."

"'Feeling'?"

"'Feeling' as in you're not doing it _just_ according to the textbook."

"It's correct. Therefore why are you nagging?" He was starting to get really annoyed with her.

Nelle looked back at him, undisturbed by his subtle warning. "Can you come up your own style? And put more energy in your style as well?" Her eyes were thoughtful but closely scrutinizing. "Or am I asking too much?" Her speech was carefully neutral.

_Style_? In dance? He upped the threat: "I'm paying you to teach me how, Nelle."

To his outrage she replied, "In that case, Mr. Kaiba, you've wasted an hour of your time and money you probably won't care about anyway." She folded her arms. "I can't dance _for_ you. But I can _show_ you style and energy."

When she turned away put on a new song, Kaiba had half a mind to fire her right there. Then again, nobody was so honest with him…she had _yet_ to prove herself worthwhile other than her candid feedback. At least she wasn't a stalker type. But in any case, he was still her _superior_.

The music ventured into a smooth bachata Kaiba didn't know he even had. (Mokuba arranged the playlist….)

--

Avril didn't want to lose her job on the first day, but she knew if Kaiba didn't understand this part of the lesson, she would lose her job anyway for being an inefficient instructor. There was a fine line between dance in theory and dance--the latter had emotion, passion, energy. Aventura's "Que sólo por un beso" was playing--a romantic, sweet _bachata_ to which she shuffled along, swaying her hips a little. Her movements were correct, but there was nothing special in them. Her gaze was unfocused. The only thing she hoped was that Kaiba could see the difference.

_Que s__ólo por un be-so…_

_Se pueden amorar_…

As soon as the song moved to verses, Avril began to feel energy and passion rise in her.

_Su boca es tan sen-suuaal…_

She arched her arms and back subtly but faithful enough to the style of _bachata_. Her hips didn't just sway, but undulated like a wave. Her eyes glanced in Kaiba's direction. She imagined colors that were not there and the notes of the _guitarra_ touched her with imaginary caresses. How might she communicate to him the notion of energy without speaking? He was tall, handsome…if he loosened up, Kaiba would make a good partner. But he was so unfeeling.

_Escuche a las palabras…de Romeo…_

"Do you see?" she asked once the song reached its bridge. "It's more than technical."

Kaiba stared back at her without emotion. His arms were folded. "You're a good dancer," he said finally. Then he headed to the door. "Friday at 4:00, Nelle."

--

The title is based on Cassie's song title, which I neither own or make profit.


	5. The Powerbroker

**Th****e Powerbroker**

--

Mokuba brushed his teeth, rinsed his mouth, and then looked in the bathroom mirror. Wide violet eyes, not much unlike Elizabeth Taylor's, stared back at him. He jutted out his smooth chin and felt for any jutting microscopic hairs.

A sharp slap landed on his shoulder.

"Aaah…Seto!" Mokuba protested.

His older brother had just stepped out the shower. Kaiba's brown hair was so dark brown when soaking that it was almost black, and he covered himself with a long white towel bearing his initials in navy.

"Keep your eyes open, little bro." Kaiba flashed his younger brother a brief smile before it relaxed in its usual solemn expression. "What're you doing?"

Mokuba opened a bottle of aftershave and slapped some on his prepubescent cheeks. "I dunno. I figured I should start shaving."

"What? Your eyebrows?" Kaiba murmured. He looked at his own reflection and decided Mokuba wasn't the only one who wanted a shave, either. Kaiba lathered shaving cream on his face and began to apply his electric razor. "You're only twelve. Your voice hasn't even changed yet."

"Yeah, but you started shaving when you were thirteen, right?"

"That's still a year after your age, kid."

"This aftershave's s'pposed to have a hair stimulator."

"It's 'supposed' to is the key word." For a rare vain moment, Kaiba admired his reflection. He looked like the powerbroker he was. His face was angular, pale, sharp, in contrast to his thick dark brown hair. His eyes had the no-nonsense look of a panther someone like him should have. Like a predator in a society of capitalism.

"How's the dance instructions with Avril goin'?"

Kaiba turned off the razor. "Productive."

It had been four straight weeks--so far her employment here was the longest of his instructors--at least, the longest of those who never had relations with him, although Kaiba grudgingly admitted she was worthy of the occasion for relations. For weeks in learning a simple waltz and the progress was snaillike because the woman wouldn't move on unless he executed the dance well enough. One day, when she corrected him, Kaiba was so fed up with her redundancy that he threatened to replace her with a more effective instructor.

Nelle wasn't intimidated. She stared at him for a good five seconds before turning off the music. Then she faced him with folded arms.

"Mr. Kaiba, you will fire me so you can hire someone who will lie to your face about your mistakes?" she said emotionlessly. "Our pace is slow, but you're learning the proper way. What you struggle with is using your movements with passion. And for that, I can never give you the answer. You must solve it alone."

And is because of this example of her personality, Kaiba understood, that whatever subconscious chemistry that lay beneath their lessons would never go anywhere with Avril Nelle. He hated to be corrected by anyone, but what he hated even more was the fact that he hadn't met Nelle's challenge. After that, he took her advice when she said to relax his posture and loosen his hips, his arms, his footsteps. And besides dance, he learned things in his lessons that the women who instructed him had never taught.

After a tough lesson, Nelle passed him a water bottle and called a five-minute break. Kaiba almost laughed. He practiced kendo for five hours straight once.

Then out of the blue she asked, "Who in your family was a dancer?"

Kaiba glanced at her with barely-masked disbelief. "What makes you think that?"

"Your expression, for one," she noted, "and two, you're not as bad as you may think."

"Feh. I'm not as bad as I…" he caught himself, irked by this embarrassing mistake. "_Anyway_," he continued, feeling even more annoyed that she ventured in his personal business, "my…mother was actually a dancer."

Nelle smiled. She had nice lips, and a nice smile, he noticed. "What genre?"

"Ballet."

"I see." Nelle took a gulp of water and wiped the sweat from her forehead. "And your father…he was a dancer as well?"

"No." He had a question on his mind that evaded him these past few weeks. "What are you Nelle? Brazilian? French?"

"French, partly, Brazilian, no." She drew her legs to her chest. "My mother was Afro-Cuban. My father was part Afro-Cuban, Puerto Rican, and French-Canadian."

"You weren't born here." This was a statement, not a question.

"Yeah, I was born in Miami, actually. How'd you know?"

"You have an accent."

"Wow. Most people can't tell." She laughed. "I came to Japan when I was a kid. But you sound like you were born here."

"I was. In Domino." Why was he releasing to her so many details of his life? Shouldn't he know by now not to trust dance instructors?

"And your parents? I imagine they were diplomats."

For some reason, he was not so annoyed. Why was this conversation so all right with him now? "Wrong. Try Eastern European immigrants," he corrected her. "My mother was Armenian. My father was Russian."

"That's really cool…do you speak both languages?"

"Russian," Kaiba replied coolly. "Armenian is not worth learning in the context of business. And you? What do you speak?"

"English, Spanish, some Papiamento."

"No French."

"Nope."

He studied her eyes more closely. They were centered in a warm, amber-brown face, and for a minute he thought he could taste toffee or something. She glanced at the clock. "Break's over."

A sharp slap came down on Kaiba's shoulder. Mokuba burst out laughing as he walked out the bathroom and said, "Keep your eyes open, bro."

Kaiba rubbed the spot where his brother slapped him, and grinned. Something about Nelle was mysteriously pulling him in, to the point that he would mull over past dance lessons days later! _Feh_, Kaiba thought. _This is what you get when you mix business in pleasure. At the end of the day, I must execute myself accordingly and be the man I fought to become when fate dropped a shitload on my shoulders after my parents died._

_The powerbroker._


	6. Tchaikovsky's 1812, Overturned

**Tchaikovsky's 1812, Overturned**

Hi :D

Just a note--for those of you who don't know, Papiamento was brought up in the other chapter. It's a language in the W.I., in islands like Curacao that used to belong to the Dutch. It's mostly a mix of African, Dutch, and Portuguese, with a little relation to Native, so really it's a patois, but you can look that up elsewhere.

Also, I just wanted to mention an author on whose work inspired "Habibi"--that is Jieli! Unfortunately she hasn't been active for two years (I dunno the girl) but her works are REALLY good, especially "I Am Free." And even if you all think my writing is crap, "I Am Free" is not--and it's got a quick, simple, funny, entertaining plotline. Hence, I draw the "dance" idea, as well as Kaiba's particular martial art(s)…

Not to encourage you NOT to read my story… evil thoughts, double negatives

--

Six weeks of dancing and the pace was still slow. Then May hit, and as soon as the summer came, so would the social events--all those of which Kaiba was unofficially required to attend. The first invite arrived in his office, exactly 1:17 P.M., after a good negotiation with the Polynesian Technological company, Polytech. This company was small and its market in Micronesia and neighboring islands was even smaller. However, Kaiba felt it was a valuable investment and wanted to "nurture" (as best as such a word could be associated with Kaiba) his venture for future interests _and_ before other large companies could probe their noses into it. As a benefactor, he had to show up, even when this invite had come earlier than expected.

"Shit," Kaiba muttered. He diverted five minutes of his tightly scheduled plans to make a phone call. "

_Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing._

_Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing._

"_Hello_?"

"Nelle."

"_I'm sorry Mr. Kaiba, but I can't speak to you n--_"

"You _will_ make time to speak with me." He had a busy schedule, dammit.

Nelle's voice was short almost to the point of being curt. "_Excuse me, Mr. Kaiba, but I have a developmental psych class starting in two minutes_." Her clipped tone suggested that he make his point clear within that time or she was hanging up, regardless of anything. The woman was going to get herself fired for that attitude, Kaiba knew, but he grudgingly admired her independence and the value she put on her education.

"Circle this date on our calendar. June 20. Polytech Annual Corporate Banquet. PACB. 8:00 PM."

"_Already_?"

"Yeah."

"_I didn't think it would be so soon_."

He noted something off in her voice. "Is there something wrong?" he asked roughly.

"_No_." Her reply was prim. "_If you want extra sessions, let me know_."

"Yeah, count on that."

She hung up.

On the other end, Avril sank in a seat at the lecture hall. June 20. It had to be June 20! That was the day Rina was coming back from Amsterdam! It was just one day the adopted sisters had before Rina flew to Morocco.

"Today," the professor drawled, "we will go more in depth on Piaget's theories…more in depth than last semester's lessons touched on…"

--

Kaiba and Avril worked at a furious pace. She reviewed steps with him, and he was okay, but she still felt something lacking in him. When she pointed it out, he retorted that he'd learned that already. Avril told him he needed to practice it more. At the next session, he was losing a little more of what little "passion" he'd attained.

Avril was confused. He was losing skills much faster than he should have been. She drilled him harder. It was only until the third class (in a row that week) she realized he hadn't had real passion in the dance at all--rather, it was an imitation of passion. Therefore the steps couldn't keep in his mind. She grew frustrated, and then he got angry.

"_What more are you looking for_?" he shouted after she probed him the millionth time. "_I did it exactly as you showed me_!"

She was not intimidated by his anger, although she felt the coldness in his eyes slice her resolve a little, and his height made him seem a little threatening. "You've been doing it wrong the whole time, I just told you."

"And you led me on?" he demanded furiously.

"I didn't 'lead' you to anything. Mr. Kaiba," she added, though unsure if honorifics would save her job. "You were _imitating_ passion--pretty well. And it was good. But it doesn't leave an imprint in your mind or linger in the review lessons, and I've noticed."

Kaiba stopped shouting, but fixed her with a glare so harsh even Avril felt nervous, and it was a little clear in her expression. "So your imitation was good," she finished quickly, "but not good enough." Without a word, and before he could storm out, Avril flipped through the i-Pod on its dock. "I know you like music," she said shortly. "You keep good tempo. And you anticipate changes in music. So what song do you want to listen to?"

"What the hell are you getting at?"

Avril wanted to kick him into silence. "Would you answer the question, please?"

"Tchaikovsky's _1812 Overture_."

_A powerful piece, and faithful to his Russian side,_ she thought, though she was no great fan of classical herself. She found Tchaikovsky in the middle of the playlist, selected the _Overture_ and put it on pause. Then she turned to him. "Now listen to me, because it is very important that you do."

"Feh." Kaiba flicked lint from his breast pocket. "Or is it?"

"I will play the piece. And we're going to dance to it, but using nothing structured--as in nothing we've learned. And _we_ will dance independently."

_We? _His thought came into being with hers.

_Emphasis on we_, Kaiba thought. He thought her little "challenge" was retarded. Would they be flipping mindlessly in the air, like children? If she didn't notice, he had dignity--although so did she, her eyes seemed to retort. The orchestra boomed with the triumphant rhythm of marching soldiers--then--

_CLASH_!

Resounding triumph, then--

_CLASH_!

Kaiba watched Avril leap, pirouette-style, into the center of the room.

_CLASH_! Her back arched and her knees collapsed gracefully with the cymbals and drums.

_CLASH_! She undulated with the movement of trumpets, closely followed by the deeper-pitched horns dragging their notes across the room. Kaiba just watched. _This is…familiar_, he thought, although his expression said, "This is ridiculous." Her supple body cart wheeled towards him. She looked annoyed. Kaiba looked down on her with disdain. The trumpets' pressure began to roll. _Feh_, _she can't expect me to_--!

_CLASH_!

Avril locked her hands around his wrists and unexpectedly jerked him forward. If it weren't for his heightened sense of perception and balance, he might have crashed on his face. The orchestra began again. Kaiba had had enough of this game play. He was ready to fire this chick. But before he could yell at her, she pushed him. To get even he shoved out one of his long arms to push her back, but she dodged around his hand, slid through his legs and behind him in a fluid movement.

Kaiba spun around, half-angry, half-amused. If she would like him to release himself in this way, _Then by all means_, he decided, _let all hell break loose_! He wanted to make her regret infringing his dignity. He dropped to his knees and brought his leg around in a longhouse kick. It came at her like a log rolling down a hill, but Avril jumped--quite high, Kaiba was surprised--with her arms and knees tucked to her chest, like a canon ball. If she managed that in martial arts, against an opponent like him, she would be a tennis ball to her foot. But dance was different.

_CLASH_!

The drums, cymbals, trumpets grew to an almost frantic climax. He tested his skills on her and threw kicks and punches at random, all of which she missed. _Has she seen this before_? He wondered. She adapted her movements to his attacks, with a style that reminded him of the Brazilian dance-martial art, Capoeira. It made everything more interesting. He could feel the music in him. Maybe there was some truth to her point, although he thought the idea was a little pansy-like.

Then, all of a sudden, the lights and music shut down. The room was lit only by a stream of sunlight coming in through the window. Avril, who was in mid-leap again, landed on her ankle at an awkward angle and fell on her bottom. She laughed. Kaiba couldn't help but grin himself, if only for a moment. This exercise had worked him up, although not in the sense that his heart was too fast or he needed to catch his breath; for all this time, there was music in his mind, chest, muscles, organ, feet, and he could move with it without need to give it an expression. This was new, this was good, although it was still pansy-like, although something about it was very feral as well.

He looked over at Avril. She had her arms around her propped knees. Her eyes were closed, her lips were parted, and Kaiba had a sense there was something else stirring in her too. Her chest still rose and fell, even after a minute, to catch her breath. He studied everything about her while she wasn't looking, mostly things perceived as mundane: like the little honey blonde curls around her ears, the round shape of her belly, and he imagined it was soft enough to lay his head against in after a good night of--

"So what'd you think?" she finally asked.

Kaiba laughed inwardly. Must she encourage his unchaste thoughts? With her voice, which was still a little husky because of that rigorous exercise. With her question alone, which more than one woman had asked him once the lights were turned back on? Nelle never approached him flirtatiously or cooed at his terse remarks, like the women before her did. He had all but very, very subtle clues that she _had_ to be feeling something, because he was feeling the same thing as well.

"Mr. Kaiba."

He had to answer. "You draw a fine point."

"Good. Now everything you learn here from now on, remember that feeling when the music is on."

_I'll remember that feeling, all right_, Kaiba thought. "Dismissed," he said.

_Then again_, he thought as he left the room, _she's different. _He actually knew her first name, background, and favorite color. Not that he cared, but it was still unusual for him to think of a woman he was attracted to beyond anything too abstract. He related with women either through business or pure instinct, complete restraint or complete abandon. In the case of Nelle, this was neither restraint nor abandon, but something else…but what?

Kaiba stopped in the middle of a corridor straddled between two long glass windows. He looked down at the city. In the unlikelihood that all restraint went abandon, he would not keep his relationship with this woman more than physical.

--

Please review!! Your input is very important...

For those of you who have never learned of Capoiera, I suggest you check it out.


	7. The Open Mouth Night 1

**The Open-Mouth Night:**

**Part 1**

FORWARD: The title is taken from a title of an amazing (but unfortunately dead) Latin author, Julio Cortázar, "La noche boca arriba." If you're into supernatural stuff, this is definitely the man for you, and there are English translations, though it's better in Spanish. It's one very bad dream…

--

Avril was _exhausted_ when she got home. She had finished her developmental and social psych finals that day, a pair of two-hour exams focused on almost everything that could have ever happened to the human brain, and her own brain was fried. Her hand groped for a light switch. Then she sleepwalked to the couch and checked her voice mail. Rina called. She played the message.

"_Hi, _soy yo_, Rina, I just wanted to check on you mami. D'you think we could have five minutes to see each other on the 20__th__? _Dímelo, paz y amor_._"

There was a second message, from Kaiba: "I will be expecting you for an extra session on Tuesday, same time."

Avril closed her eyes slowly. _Please, thank-you, excuse me_--were these words too much for him? Yesterday Tchaikovsky gave him a kind of breakthrough from his usual cold skepticism. She knew he thought she was uppity, but that was only because Kaiba's employees functioned like drones, constantly and urgently going back and forth in their work--everything was rigid and stressful. How could someone as carefree as Mokuba have a brother so--so opposite? Her tired mind couldn't wrap around it.

Yet she kept thinking of yesterday. Kaiba. Tchaikovsky. What…exactly _what_ about him drew her interest despite his coldness, arrogance, cynicism, boorish way? The cogs in her mind began turning. _Pff_, it had to be more than his good looks, and he was too tall and skinny for her. Maybe she unconsciously liked his difficult character; psychological studies confirmed people are drawn to fairly chaotic relationships, hence the age-old "Romeo-And-Juliet-Effect." Other studies seemed to indicate that women in particular liked troublesome men…she wondered if she was that woman. _I hope not_.

Her arms sank into the couch's flexible but stiff cushions. _Maybe we're kind of alike_, she thought. His faults aside, Kaiba was determined, independent, and very intelligent. He was much more pragmatic than she, certainly to a fault, but that kind of thought would protect him from deceit…she could…_yaaaawn_…respect that…

--

The apartments above floor fifty in Kaiba Corp HQ were enormous in their sizes and prices, with plenty of space for about any kind of recreation conceivable to the mind. In comparison to other rooms, the bedroom Kaiba used most often was relatively small, about the size of a small restaurant. One wall was made entirely of glass windows facing eastward over the entire, brightly-lit city. His working space made up the other wall, which included a small bookshelf, glass file cabinets, a desk, fireplace, and leather chair. Kaiba had a 20th-century Ottoman rug thrown across the wooden floor, which was raised in a dais in the middle of the room so that it supported a king-size bed.

It was on this bed that Kaiba flung himself after a hard day. His long limbs covered almost every inch of the bed and its midnight blue satin sheets. For once, he was tired.

"Cell phone."

On the wall immediately facing the bed Kaiba owned an extremely thin plasma-screen he developed himself six months ago; the only reason that Sony, Toshiba, and other competitors weren't screaming on their knees was because the Kaisma Screen Infinity (KSI) was still too expensive for the average middle-class consumer. He was using the feature that allowed a direct, voice-automated link to one's cell. The cool female voice replied, "_Options_?"

"Call Avril."

"_Calling_."

Seconds passed. Avril wasn't available; Kaiba had to leave a message: "I will be expecting you for an extra session on Tuesday, same time."

"_Options_?"

"Turn off cell phone."

"_Turning off cell phone_."

_She'd better have no excuses_, Kaiba thought, folding his arms. _But then again_, he caught himself, _why do I care_?

The phone turned on by itself. "_Call intercept: Gianina. Options_?"

His eyes snapped open. "Turn _off _cell phone_._"

"Turning off cell phone."

Why was she trying to call him, _dammit_? He thought. Two months had passed since they parted, and when they said goodbye Kaiba assumed they did so with the intention of not seeing each other. Yet he could expect to see her again within the next year or two, married to an old, wealthy businessman as her career waned. Even so, Kaiba was uninterested in nightly chats about life and love and stars and other meaningless things he had neither time nor interest for.

He closed his eyes again and folded his arms. What if she called about something else? Now and then during their brief stint she would suggest they take a weekend in Greece or Fiji or some other exotic place…. Those were good times. He learned to tolerate the beach and found these places to be good spots for meditation. In the evenings, Gianina would bug him into, "going somewhere."

_Let's go to the club,_ she'd always say. _You need to get out more, _bello_._

_I don't club_, he replied.

_Then we can do something else. The bar makes good cosmos. Or if you don't like that, let's head to the casino. You're good at card games._

Kaiba refused. _I'm not a drinker, and I've already memorized the probabilities for cards--it's too easy._

_Watch the sunset_?

_Who cares about a sunset_?

_Visit the falls? The port_?

_Seen them already_.

_There's a stand-up comedy show in the city--would you like that, _amore?

_No thanks._

How she annoyed the hell out of him! He didn't want to do "relationship things." It wasn't because the media would assume they were a couple--the media already assumed that--but his interest in her was almost purely superficial. Her world was just as superficial and screamed fashion, fashion, fashion, which had nothing to do with him. She didn't care for politics or literature, and she had never read Dante or other famous works of her native Italy.

The last time, when they went to Cambodia, Gianina said, _Seto, let's go visit the beach. It's looks very beautiful at night. _Andiamo bello_._

Kaiba laughed. _Only if you'd like to do something else on the beach._

He was amused with his comeback until he saw the wounded expression in her distressed green eyes and worried frown, which all read, _Is that all I will ever be to you, _bello?The moment was tense, awkward. Kaiba wondered, _Should I apologize_? _Then again, why should I care about her feelings_? _She wants to pretend we're something we're not_. But that doesn't excuse you, you prick, a harsh inner voice replied. And before he could say sorry, she left the room.

The next time saw her was their last meeting. The envelope he gave her contained more cash than the earnings she made from any single contract in her career. He wanted to keep her from reporting anything about their shallow relationship, but it was also the only way he could apologize for what he said in Cambodia. She didn't want it, hence her cynical reply, "_Amore_, you must think I'm some cheap whore."

Maybe he should call her back?

_No_, he decided firmly. _Let that be the past._

But he could still hear Gianina's voice travel over weeks in time: "There is love for you out there too, Seto…" He heard her say this over and over again, like a lullaby, until he fell asleep.

_--_

_Part 2, next chapter!_


	8. The Open Mouth Night 2

**The Open-Mouthed Night:**

**Part 2**

Thanks for the reviews!

This part includes a lot of information about Kaiba and Avril's pasts that matter later, so try to follow as best as possible. Of course, if you don't follow it now it's okay--you won't miss anything in the next chapter.

Also, I won't necessarily stick to canon, so if you see anything that makes you say, "Hey--that's not right…" it was intentionally made this way.

--

Avril woke up eleven years old. Her eyelids opened very slightly. She thought in bewilderment, _But wasn't I sleeping on my couch_? _Where am I_? Someone was talking above her. She recognized the voice, even after all this time--it was her mother's sister, Titi Pené lope.

"_Pobrecita_, poor little girl…"

"I just don't have the heart to tell her about Monín and Jean-Pablo," said another voice, her mother's other sister, Juanita. "_No tengo bastante coraje._"

The third and fourth voices were a little more distant.

"Shhh, _cállate_, you might be telling her right now." _Who is this_? Avril thought. It was either her mother's brothers Cristó bal or Martí n.

The fourth voice was clear enough that Avril was sure it was her mother's younger sister, Gabriela. "Martín is right. Even in deep comas people can hear others speaking…"

Avril kept her eyes closed and didn't open them fully until the voices were gone. When she was sure, she shot out of the bed. To her shock, she was in the hospital. There was a mirror on the dresser. Avril stared at her reflection intently. She was eleven years old, all right. Back then she still so skinny that her brown, bony shoulders were invisible underneath her abundant, curly blonde hair. From everything she had seen so far, she could deduce that she was nine years in back in time, a few days after her parents died.

For whatever reason, she couldn't stay awake for long. She felt too drowsy. Avril turned back to the bed and covered herself in the sheets. Maybe if she went back to sleep, this weird dream would be all over, and she would be on the couch where she belonged…

--

A deluge of rain gave Kaiba a rude awakening, but he was not in his bed. _Where am I_? He thought tiredly. Then the rain stopped, but Kaiba was still uneasy. He was not in his bed, but somebody's arms; this realization startled him out of sleep more than the rain did, and he was even more shocked to see who was holding him.

It was…it was…_himself_! Didn't he have dark brown hair and dark blue eyes? Kaiba couldn't believe it. _How the hell can I be in two places at once_? _What the fuck happened in the world_? He studied the face a little more and noticed it had five-o'-clock shadow. _But I shaved this morning._ _And I don't have a cleft chin. Or a birthmark on my temple. _Was this even him? Was this some psycho who drugged him? Furious, Kaiba struggled against the psycho's hold. "Put me down!" he demanded angrily in the high, boyish voice of an eleven-year-old. "Now!"

Kaiba's "other self" stared back and laughed in amusement. His voice was deep and pleasant. "Seryozha, don't talk to your papa like that or he may decide to discipline you." He spoke Russian, not Japanese.

_What_ did he say? **_Seryozha_? _Papa_? **Kaiba was even more bewildered. No one had called him "Seryozha" in years. "Seryozha" was a nickname of his Russian name, "Sergei," which was an alternative to his Japanese name, "Seto" (or the reverse, whichever you prefer). If he wasn't wrong, the psycho had to be his father…

_I'm having an ugly dream_, Kaiba thought, immediately resisting this scenario. _Wake up. Wake up_. Nothing happened. _Wake up_! Nothing. _This is what you get for not meditating before dinner_, he chastised himself. He almost _never_ gave thought to his past, especially where his biological parents were concerned. Why should he be an eleven-year-old kid carried in his father's arms, anyway?

"Where are you taking me?" Kaiba stuttered. "I--I wanna go home!"

"We are going home." A pleasant female voice said. She also spoke Russian, but with a strange accent. Kaiba didn't recognize her until she came beside "Papa"; she was a stunningly beautiful woman. Her thick black hair was pulled into a bun, and her wide eyes were a beautiful shade of violet, like Elizabeth Taylor's. Kaiba's biological mother. This new realization made him feel more uncomfortable than before, because while Kaiba all but looked exactly like "Papa," his Mokuba was the female version of their mother, down to the delicate structure of their cheekbones. Kaiba wanted to go home, now.

"Is he still sick?" she asked "Papa" with concern. "He doesn't look too good."

"No," "Papa" answered, "just tired. I'll drive, Anoush."

"Here are the keys." _Clink-clink_.

They approached a car in a driveway. Kaiba felt washes with indignity as "Papa" lowered him the backseat, and even worse than that, a car seat! After he was buckled in and the door was closed, Kaiba thought he was trapped in a perverse level of hell. He couldn't wake up. He couldn't at least dream something else. _What the devil is happening_? If he was sick before, according to Anoush, it wasn't anything as bad as what he felt now.

The car pulled out of the driveway. The rain outside fell harder, almost like a flood. Kaiba felt lost.

Anoush said, "Do be careful, Georgy."

"I won't go too fast," "Papa" told her in an assuring voice. "And don't worry; hardly anyone's on the road at this time at night, anyway."

Kaiba looked towards the other window and almost cried out. There was another car seat, in which sat Mokuba. Mokuba! Maybe his brother was stuck in this whacked-up scenario, too.

Then disappointment fell. "Look, Mama, look!" Mokuba threw up his hands, which looked startlingly small. He giggled childishly. Anoush laughed, but Kaiba felt defeated. Even if Mokuba was trapped in this hell of a dream, he was trapped in the body and mind of a three-year-old boy.

Anoush reached over her seat and stroked Mokuba's black hair, which was spiky even back then, Kaiba noticed. He moodily watched her play with Mokuba's hands, calling him "Misha," short for his Russian name, "Mikhail." Nine years had passed since this time was Kaiba's life, but even time made it no less easier to remember. He would do anything to erase it from existence.

--

_Another dream_? Avril thought. She was still eleven years old, but in backseat of a car, not the hospital. She looked at the streetlights, which streamed past her window like comets. It was raining pretty hard. Her eyes blinked slowly. _Where am I_? She looked at the front seats. _Are these people my aunties and uncles_?_ No_, she realized. Her eyes caught sight of the woman in the passenger seat through her side-view-mirror. The woman had a beautiful long neck, and watchful eyes that stood out against a long face the color of a hazelnut. She wore her hair natural and pulled back in a puff. Beside her, in the driver's seat, was a man. The back of his head was made of loosely-curled blonde hair. His hands were strong. Wherever she was, Avril felt safe.

"¿ _Mamita_? ¿ _Papi_?" she ventured cautiously.

"¿_Mami_?" the man said, glancing over his shoulder. Avril felt relieved. She was with her parents for sure. Nothing could make her smile more.

"¿Dó-dónde vamos? Where are we going?"

Papi said, "Home, _mami_."

"How long will it take?"

"Fifteen, twenty minutes," Mamita answered, looking a little puzzled. "We've gone this way before. You should know that by now."

They were close to home, too! Avril felt jittery with excitement. "Hey--hey--can we play some music?"

"Yeah." Papi turned on the CD player to a romantic song Avril recognized but could no longer name. Mamita clapped her hands and laughed in amusement. "This is why they call you the lover poet,Jean. It's the French and Cuban and Puerto Rican and in you. Un recipie de raices."

"_Soy lo que soy_," he told her. "I am what I am."

Avril closed her eyes in relief. She wished this wasn't a dream. She wished for the days when she never had to worry about rent and school and rude bosses. She wished everything that had troubled her life never existed. She wished this because she knew there was no better place to be than in the backseat of your parents' car.

--

The car reached the highway. Mokuba was sleeping. It was dark, and just as "Papa" said, not many cars were on the road. Anoush was speaking very softly, so that Kaiba could barely hear: "I'm worried about Nikita."

Kaiba almost snorted at the sound of his uncle's name. Nikita was "Papa's" younger brother, who held temporary custody of Kaiba and Mokuba before dumping them in the orphanage. If Kaiba was going to be stuck in this hell, he might as well stay for a chance to beat this bastard of an uncle to a pulp.

"Yeah," "Papa" said. "I know. It's just one of his…difficult spells again."

"Not this time. Ilena"--Nikita's wife--"is very worried. He's been drinking heavily and disappearing for days at a time. Sometimes he can't even recognize her and Lara." Lara, Nikita's only child, and was the Kaiba borthers' only surviving relative. To this day Kaiba had no idea of her whereabouts.

There was quiet surprise in "Papa's" voice. "She said this?"

"Yes."

"I can't believe it; he sounds so far gone. He's never done anything like that before. I'll talk to him."

Kaiba noticed two bright, pinpricks of light through the wind-shield. The wind-shield-wipers jammed all of a sudden.

"Also," Anoush added, "until Nikita improves, it would be best--for now--"

The lights got closer. Kaiba noticed they were swerving a little. He felt uneasy. The Mitsubishi driving next to them seemed to feel the same way, because its driver switched to the right lane rather quickly.

"To do what?" "Papa" asked, adjusting his rear-view-mirror.

"Take Nikita and Ilena's names off our w-i-l-l," Anoush whispered. "About the children's guardianship."

"Papa" looked uncomfortably at Anoush. "We will talk more about this later. Look, Seryozha is listening to us."

Kaiba's attention went from the swerving lights to the back of his father's head. _So what if I am listening_? He thought bitterly. _If you had any sense, you would have pulled your fool brother's name from the WILL years ago_!

The car was suddenly flooded with light. There was a car straight ahead of them, plunging into the highway at seventy, maybe eighty miles. Anoush screamed. Mokuba jerked awake. Kaiba instinctively reached for his brother's hand but was jerked against the window as "Papa" pulled the steering wheel as far right as possible. Kaiba tried to warn him that the Mitsubishi was there, but it was too late.

Then came the loudest sound Kaiba ever heard. He could never forget it, even if he didn't want to.

--

Not long into her little peace, Avril felt violent shakes all over. The explosion of noise and movement was so brutal she went deaf and couldn't hear anything as she was tossed around. She might have been pitched forward through the wind-shield if it weren't for her seatbelt. Eventually the car stopped spinning and landed in its original position, although the front was so mangled she couldn't find her parents. Avril screamed, but heard nothing. She smelled gas. Her little hands pushed against the door, but the handle was broken. The only way she could get out was through the open sunroof. She unbuckled her seatbelt and managed to stand up, despite the pain in her legs. Her calves felt like they had been sliced. Avril cried out, but she wondered if anyone was even around to hear her. Her arms pulled her up, just as she remembered. She rolled off the roof and into the grass.

Even if this was a dream, Avril cried. She hoped she would wake up soon. _God, give me peace_.

--

Kaiba woke up to the sound of crying. He was lying face-down in the grass. He knew he was hurt but couldn't feel the pain, probably because of shock. He looked across the grass and saw a little girl--probably from the other car--sobbing, but he wouldn't help her. Over her screams he heard Mokuba's. Kaiba got to his feet and ran to find his brother.

--

He woke up. It was morning, and he was still wearing his boots and clothes. Kaiba rubbed his forehead and calmed down. _That was a hell of a dream_. But there was another day to live and another reason never to think of his past again.

--

She woke up. It was morning, and she was still in her sweatshirt and jeans. Avril rubbed her forehead and calmed down. _That was a sick dream_. _Total mierda. Total shit. _But there was another day to live and another reason to thank God she was alive.

--

Expect more buffers in the future, most likely not soon. :D

But DO stay tuned for the next chapter...


	9. Flashing Lights

**Flashing…Lights**

Title is inspired by Kanye's song :D, although the video is too graphic. :0

--

**June 20**

"This isn't going to work."

"No, it's not."

In the lounge of the exorbitant dressing room on the 53rd floor, Kaiba and Avril stood facing each other with their hands on their hips. Kaiba wore a high-collared black shirt, black blazer and tight-fitting black pants with boots that had brass rivets at the front. Avril said he looked too severe, but in turn Kaiba said she looked like a groupie. He had a closet set aside for his company with clothes he picked himself (that way their dresses complimented his flatteringly). Avril had chosen a mermaid-gown shot with soft blue, white, and pink colors that resembled clouds.

"So what do you suggest?" Kaiba said sarcastically, though he was too lazy to make suggestions himself.

"I will choose your clothes," Avril told him. "And you choose mine. Okay?"

"Done. And don't take an eternity, Nelle."

They crossed each other's paths and entered the separate closets. Avril was amazed with his wardrobe; everything was _perfectly_ organized; there wasn't a hanger out of place, and there were so many choices to look at. She spotted a metallic silver tie and picked it up immediately; now she would have to choose something more conservative, like a black shirt and trousers. After the trousers she found a black blazer with some padding at the shoulders; Avril took it up almost at once, because Kaiba needed structure in his clothes to give him some weight. And he wouldn't wear boots today, she decided, but dress shoes. She almost wished she could wear his clothes. It's…kinda sexy, she thought.

Meanwhile Kaiba was going through the women's closet using the process of elimination: too bright, too long, not formal enough, what was I thinking about that one? and is that even her size? Two minutes later he faced a dress that had potential. Kaiba rubbed his chin. It was strapless and the waist was defined just below the bust with a satin band of metallic silver, but the black color and length made up for its daring appeal. He lifted it from the rack, and considered how she would fill the dress and let his mind linger over the thought. Too bad it wouldn't show her legs. _This'll do_, he decided, walking out.

"I said I'd be quick, didn't I?" Avril taunted him as she walked out.

"Actually, you didn't," Kaiba pointed out. They exchanged clothes and went back in the closets to change.

Kaiba put on the tie and considered his reflection. Nelle had good taste, he thought, irked that he hadn't come up with this mix himself. Of course, he might have paired a different blazer and shirt, and he would've worn boots instead of dress shoes, but overall, she had made a good choice.

In the women's closet, Avril had just zipped the back of her dress and was startled at her reflection. She laughed. The dress was a reflection of Kaiba's thought; the black skirt might have been loose on a hipless model, but exposed the curves in Avril's torso. The waistline was defined just under the bust with a silver band, and overall the dress looked like a cross between a conservative evening gown and lingerie. But Avril wasn't offended; she was glad he chose something neither nun-like nor smutty. The length even was considerate of her feet.

"Are you done looking at yourself?"

Avril glared at his reflection. "Mr. Kaiba, what if you walked in when I was still changing?"

"It will only encourage you to change faster in the future," he told her reproachfully, but there was a slight smile on his lips. "You left the door open. And I knocked."

She liked his cologne. "Oh."

"Let's go."

--

In Japan there was a gossip magazine called _Moshi-Moshi_ which promised its readers to know everything everywhere in the land of the rich and famous, including this small event on the 20th of June--the Polytech Annual Corporate Banquet, held at the Gilded Age Ballroom in Kyoto. Of the twenty paparazzi present, only three belonged to Moshi-Moshi--Honda, Sano, and Makino.

"Probably only a few C-listers will be around," their director said. "But be on the lookout."

Guests started arriving at 7:30. Sano took a gulp of coffee and lazily took a couple shots. Makino began going through names--some heiress's ex-boyfriend who had investments in Polytech, a prospective rapper who grew up with the company vice-president, etc., etc… "Did nobody bring a guest list?" Makino demanded.

"For what?" Honda replied. He waved at a guest to look in his direction, and took her picture. The other paparazzi hardly moved at all. "Nobody important is here."

"They might not end up in the magazine," Sano pointed out. "Especially if sales are up."

Their luck ran in a familiar limo pulled up. Makino dove in his pocket and took out a list of license-plate numbers. If he wasn't mistaken, the limo belonged to--

"KAIBA!"

"Kaiba?"

"Mr. Kaiba!"

"A few words, Seto?"

"Kaiba--over here!"

"_Kaiba_!"

"Finally a big fish!" Makino laughed. "Let's reel it in!"

The strength of three the _Moshi-Moshi_ paparazzi beat out a bum-rush of other "mosquitoes" and fended off competitors with their elbows and camera lenses and microphones. It wouldn't be long before pedestrians noticed the commotion and stormed unto the carpet and make the chaos typical to public events. Honda was at the front and tried to zoom-in on the interior of the young CEO's limo, so that he could get a glimpse of his company tonight. Then every paparazzo heard a loud "cha-ching" in his or her ears.

"It's Cristina Millian!" one shouted.

"Hey Cristina!"

"Cristina, look over here!" Makino shouted. "OY! THIS WAY!"

Sano slapped his partner on the head. "Dumb ass, that's not Christina Millian, d'you want to mis-cite? Her hair's too short."

"Who is it then, eh?" Makino retorted.

"Mel B, the former Spice Girl, with a blonde dye job."

A nerdy camera boy interjected. "I think you mean Melody Thorton with a blonde dye job, sir." His voice was high and nasal. Sano and Makino looked at the amateur in confusion.

"You know," the kid said, "Melody Thorton!"

Lukewarm realization crept up Sano's face. "Oh--that chick from the PussyCat Dolls? I forgot what she looked like."

There were a few murmurs of agreement: "Yeah, me too..."

"I still say it's Mel B," Sano said stubbornly.

And then the ruckus started again. Makino flared. "Mel B is tall, you don't even know what you're talking about!"

"Shut up, I've done this longer than you--"

"Who is it then, huh?" Makino went back to recording. "Christina, any comment on your new hair cut?"

"Are you a natural blonde?" an _Us_ reporter cried out between flashes. Cristina--or whoever she was--said "Yes," but Kaiba shouted at the reporters to mind their own business and rushed inside the hall, leaving the reporters with unanswered questions:

"Who are you?"

"Can you tell me your name?"

"Hey! What's your name?"

"NAME?"

--

As soon as Kaiba walked out, they were hit with flashing lights. Although Avril noticed the paparazzi was small and nothing more than a bunch of mosquitoes selfishly vying for pictures, together they made a kind of force. Shouting. Waving cameras and microphones. Flashing lights. Kaiba paid little attention to them. It was only when a reporter from _US_ stuck a microphone in her face and asked, "Are you a natural blonde?" that Kaiba seemed to register their presence. Avril had made the mistake of answering them which caused an explosion of excitement. Kaiba pushed the _US _reporter behind the barricade, saying "Mind your damn business!" to the paparazzi and, "You should have shut up," to Avril, before rushing her inside the hall.

"Would you let go of my wrist?" she complained.

After giving her a hard stare, he let go. "That was stupid."

"I know."

"That's why I told you to not talk to the reporters under any circumstances. There will be much, much bigger events than this one and you can't hope to walk three feet unto a carpet if you're unable to follow directions."

Avril wanted to slap him. Who was he to talk to her like that? "I'll keep this in mind next time."

"'I'll keep this in mind' _who_?" he demanded.

"I'll keep this in mind, Seto," she replied evenly.

Kaiba folded his arms and looked down on her with an edge of contempt. Avril gave it back, folding her arms and keeping determination in her eyes, even as he said, "Cheek like that may cost you your job, Nelle."

_Kiss my ass,_ she thought furiously as she walked past him and into the threshold of the entrance hall. _You want to think you're superior to me, that you can control me, but you don't. And that makes you furious._

Kaiba watched her as she passed him, mixed with anger and lust. Just when he thought he could master her with the same psychology he used to master his other subordinates, she wriggled out of his control and became as changing and mysterious as when they first met. He was a person that appreciated continuity, a finite answer, and clarity. But somehow, she managed to keep her mouth shut and still give off a clear "Kiss my ass" attitude. _She shouldn't encourage me,_ he thought sullenly.

_Why is he staring at me_? Avril thought with a little alarm. Was he really considering--_gulp_--firing her?

"_Konban-wa_, miss."

Avril looked to her right and shook the hand of one of the gentlemen in the hall. Dressed in a sharp, close-fitting black suit and white dress shirt, he gave her a charismatic smile that eased her agitation. He wasn't the handsomest man in the room, and he was a little on the short side, but he was quite good-looking. His face at the mixed features of a Japanese and a European: his nose was straight and covered in light brown freckles, his bones structure was defined and angular, and his hazel eyes were slanted at the corners and emphasized with long lashes. He couldn't have been much older than her--twenty-five? Twenty-six? Avril noticed he had a dimple in his left cheek, which added to his charm.

"_Konban-wa_," she replied. "May I ask your name?"

"Minamoto Toshiro. And your name?"

Minamoto--Avril felt like she was shaking the hand of a demigod. Who was she to give her name? "Nelle, Avril." Because Avril's name was foreign and Japanese didn't always correlate to foreign language (particularly the "l") Minamoto repeated her name in the most appropriate Japanese version: "Neru, Akiko. A pleasure to meet you."

He held her hand for a few seconds longer before releasing it. The drawn out way he said "pleasure" made her uncomfortable. Nevermind his surname was "Minamoto", a four-syllable name connected to unlimited prestige.

As though by magic, pair of champagne glasses appeared in his hand. He offered her one, which she accepted. Minamoto asked, "Are you a benefactor of Polytech? Employee?"

"Actually, I'm a guest."

He slowly raised his glass to his lips. "Of whom, if I may ask?"

"President Kaiba."

"President Kaiba!" Minamoto repeated with mild surprise. "I was unaware he had any venture in Polytech…"

_Venture_. Avril read into his sentence more closely than Minamoto realized; "venture" stuck out to her. Perhaps Kaiba didn't want anyone to know exactly what business he had with Polytech. It was better to err on the side of caution. "Actually, I know he is familiar with the president of Polytech; that he has a 'venture' here is just a common…speculation."

"You're a good liar. But with all due respect to your host"--he gave a cheerful laugh--"Seto Kaiba is no social butterfly. He executes business for the purity of capitalism: the highest possible reward for the least possible expense. If he has no venture _yet_, he is certainly interested…"

_I agree_, Avril thought, tasting the champagne. But she told him, "I hate to encourage your delusions."

Her bite of a reply made him smirk. "Whether or not Kaiba has successfully picked a venture, he has successfully picked a guest, and a very beautiful one at that."

"You give me more compliment than I deserve, Mr. Minamoto." _Given you're trying to suck up to me. Little ass-kisser_.

"Not at all. You're quite charming. Tell me--how do you find Kaiba Corp? How do you find Kaiba as a president?"

Avril felt uncomfortable. He was too willing to speak with her compared to these other hobnobbing elites, who could tell she was something "other" than they.

Then, Minamoto's expression tensed a little. Avril knew Kaiba was behind her; nobody could put a cold chill in people like he could. "At pleasure to see you again, Seto," Minamoto said quietly. "_Konban-wa_."

"Evening to you too, Minamoto," Kaiba said curtly. "Interfering in my business again?"

"Not at all, Seto. Why would you suggest such a ridiculous--?"

"If I remember clearly, I promised my fist would act as a plunger down your throat if you didn't learn to mind your own business." Avril's spine stiffened at the sound of cracking knuckles. "If you'd like to escape that fate, I advise you to run your ass out of this banquet hall in the next fifteen seconds, and counting, fourteen…"

Minamoto won the record for the fastest running man in the country.

Kaiba physically turned Avril around and demanded, "What did he ask you and what did you tell him?"

"First of all, you can get your hands off me."

Kaiba folded his hands under his arms. "_And_?"

She explained their brief conversation. He made a rare grin and chuckled softly. "Typical."

"What--I mean, who is Minamoto exactly?"

"A snake."

"You use this noun a lot. He's a snake in what way?"

"In ways like slithering into the private matters of other companies," Kaiba said lethally, although he still had an amused grin, "and serving as an informant to his patrons. Information is crucial to business. In a capitalist market, if the wrong person gets hold of a company's precious information, the company is at the mercy of the informant. Minamoto's done it before, too."

Avril rubbed her shoulder absentmindedly. Did she say something wrong?

Kaiba chuckled again. "You're a psychology major, right?"

She looked up at him with surprise. "Yes."

"You'll make a good psychologist."

There again, another surprise compliment. Avril was still surprised; how did he know she was a psych major? She asked him.

"Remember when I called you a few weeks ago, Nelle?" he reminded her, as if she were slow. "And you said you were getting ready for a developmental psych class."

"But still, how did you know it was my major and not just say, my elective?"

"I just know, is that enough?"

_Is he reading into me_? She wondered seriously. His faded grin turned into a sour expression. "_Stop_ looking at me like that, woman. And you're dripping champagne on the floor."

Avril had been holding her glass at her wrist in the way of a hammer since Minamoto left. She muttered something about getting a napkin, but Kaiba said sharply, "There's someone else who'll do that. Come. Dinner's starting. We've table 16."

They walked to number 16, past waiters and waitresses that navigated between millionaires and queen bees like drones. Number 16, a table of four, was already occupied by a sixty-year-old man with speaking rough English and a beautiful young woman with stick-straight blonde hair and wide gray eyes. Then, without warning, Kaiba used his elbow to push her in a direction away from number 16. But it was too late; for whatever reason he wanted to avoid the incongruent couple, the woman already noticed him and raised her hand in greeting.

"Seto!" Her voice was annoying and shrill.

Kaiba gave a brief nod at the woman without stopping. "Keep walking, Nelle," he whispered. "Number eleven. It has two seats open. Go!"

"Seto! This is your table, isn't it? Your place cards are here."

"_Shit_," he swore under his breath.

They turned around. As they approached the table, the woman ran up to Kaiba and wrapped her arms around his neck. Kaiba wanted to recoil; this was more PDA than he was comfortable with. "Oh, Seto!" she cried in English. "Such a long, long, long, long, long time! Positively ages!"

Kaiba rolled his eyes. "It's been two years." _Still a leech, I see_, he thought bitterly. He regarded the man, who remained seated and a little concentrated on his plate. "And how are you, Stevens?" Kaiba asked loudly.

"What?" Stevens said loudly.

The woman glanced at Avril and wore a tight smile. "I'm afraid we haven't made proper introductions. I'm Cristina Schwartz-Hitzig. Seto and I are quite close."

"Quite close" meaning what? Behind her, Kaiba visibly cringed. Avril introduced herself. "Avril Nelle, very pleased to meet you."

"Oh, an American are you?" Cristina giggled. "I thought you were perhaps something else, like one of those exotic drinks they're serving at the minibar, if not one of the Chilean party over there."

_Oh, now I'm an exotic drink, am I_? Avril decided not to get into her heritage. Cristina introduced the man, who was to only Avril's shock, Cristina's fiancé, Stevens Braymer. "Don't mind him, he's a little deaf in the ear," Cristina told them, but neglecting to mention he was a little senile. "Dinner should be served soon; you both must sit down!"

Avril noticed Kaiba's extreme discomfort, despite the constraint in his composure. Maybe she could divert the situation to give him time to figure a way out of dining with Cristina but without offending her. Avril sat down beside Cristina, whose smile was a little too earnest, and then turned to Kaiba:

"Um, Mr. Kaiba, would you mind, um, getting me a drink?"

"What would you like?" Kaiba said quickly. Then, before she could answer, "Piña Colada it is."

He disappeared as quickly as Minamoto. Avril was amazed. Cristina hovered over her shoulder, smiling. Avril smiled hesitantly back.

"So, you are Seto's new…love interest?"

Avril flushed, completely taken aback. "Excuse me?"

A representative of Polytech began a long, boring speech while the waiters served the first course: hot soup with a hibiscus bloom tucked near the spoon. Cristina peeled a petal from the flower and nibbled on it before drinking her soup. "In your opinion, how is he as a lover?"

"You're mistaken. My relationship with Mr. Kaiba is purely professional and platonic." Avril drank down a spoonful of soup while drinking down the desire to twist her fork in Cristina's ear. The woman was insolent.

Cristina batted her eyelashes charmingly. "Professional as in escort slash…dance instructor?"

Avril said nothing. How did she know? Cristina giggled and answered this question: "I used to have the position, dear Avril." She reached for a glass of champange and lifted it to her lips. "Two of three of Kaiba's paramours have had the position, therefore I expected you to be his new interest." She parted another flower petal. "He is quite adept in the art of seduction."

_How corny_. "As I've said, that's not the case."

"Well, when you _do_ find out," the woman continued airily, "you will love his six-pack. I know he looks rather like a twig without those trench coats and turtlenecks, but he's quite fit. Everything. The whole package. Even the--"

Avril stopped Cristina's graphic point. "Excuse me, Ms. Schwartz-Hitzig, but I must ask you to stop, or else I will spill champange on your dress."

That shut her up. Satisfied, Avril had questions herself. "So you are engaged?"

"Oh, yes," Cristina snapped. "Stevens and I are very, very happy."

"When is the wedding?"

"The month is to be determined. And you shan't be invited if Seto wants to come."

"It just happens that I have something to do in the month to be determined," Avril replied coolly, "and won't be able to come anyway." Avril folded her napkin and set it on the table. "I think Mr. Kaiba's having trouble finding our table. I'll go look for him." She walked to the bar, where Kaiba was sitting there with his elbows propped on the counter and a sullen look on his face.

"You couldn't take that idiot either, could you?" Kaiba said boorishly.

"I think she's mental," Avril replied simply, "and should be used as a case study."

"To put it lightly! What did she say?"

"She thought we were lovers."

_If only that were true_, Kaiba thought. "Feh."

The bartender asked Avril, "Would you like a drink, miss?"

"A colada, no liquor, thanks," Avril told him. She looked over her shoulder at Kaiba. "Why would a savvy, no-nonsense CEO get mixed up with a dimwitted airhead?"

"I like your lack of pronouns to ask into my business, Nelle," he said waspishly, "and your psychological logic is obvious to a raccoon."

The bartender gave her the drink. She chewed on the slice of mandarin orange. "You can choose to answer it or not. I can't make you do anything."

_I beg to differ_, he thought again, wishing to touch her smooth shoulders, neck, and back. "What I tell you, Nelle, if you ever reveal it to anyone…"

"Secret's safe."

He lowered his voice and indicated for her to come closer; it would preserve his privacy and bring him as close to her as he could get without compromising his perceived aloofness to her. "She had your position about two, three years ago."

"She told me that."

Kaiba decided to cut through everything that happened in the middle--Saturday nights in one of the spare guest rooms. "Next thing I know," he continued, "she tells me she's engaged and needed advice about her fiancé. She 'planned' to marry that geezer years ago."

"The same hasn't happened for two out of three of your dance instructors, has it?"

"Where the hell did you get them from? _Her_," he thought bitterly. "I see."

"I think I've gotten too involved in your business. Nevermind me."

Someone made an announcement, that the stage hall was now open for dancing. Avril finished her drink and watched the elites sway into the "stage hall". She was interested in this--why was dance such an important element for companies nowadays? Inside there was an orchestra who played the dance classic of all classical music: "The Blue Danube." Kaiba and Avril had actually memorized entire steps to the piece, because it was so common.

"How long are we supposed to be here?" she whispered as they turned in revolving arcs.

Kaiba shrugged. "Not long. There's still desert and closing speeches…"

"That's an unusual setup."

"Well, this company isn't known for its organizational skills."

"Keep your posture, posture…"

The orchestra was very talented; slowly, one by one, each musician changed to the notes of "Orpheus in the Underworld"--this piece was much faster, but the transition was smooth. Avril mouthed at Kaiba, "follow me," and they had to change the pace of their steps to fit the piece's tempo. Other couples looked at from the orchestra to Kaiba and Avril with uncertainty and surprise. Kaiba looked back at them with arrogance. A few of these wannabes were people who in some way tried to stain his reputation. One of them--the print journalist with the moustache and ridiculous tux--published several reports about how Kaiba Corp's violent games "targeted" children. And the smut in the wig standing next to him told to _Moshi-Moshi Magazine_ that he was bigamous. Two wannabes here were jealous of his talent in Duel Monsters and accused him of cheating. How he liked to see that look on their faces! _Yes, Seto Kaiba has refinement even for the likes of you stuck-up bastards; none of you were self-made and had to kill yourselves to survive… You're all just lesser versions of Gozaboru--_

"Keep your feet out of my way," Kaiba snapped when he stepped on her foot.

Avril glared at him briefly as he spun her several times. He was getting on her last damn nerve…at least the salary was good…

The band quickly transitioned again to Symphony 9. A few bystanders got together in couples and tried to dance, but no one was quite as good as Mr. Kaiba and his partner. The woman who sported a wig snorted contemptuously at Kaiba. "What will he impress us with next? Glass blowing?"

"He is quite talented, though," the vice-president of Polytech reminded her. "You have to admit."

You _have to admit_, the woman thought waspishly, _because he's your patron_.

"That's enough," Kaiba muttered after about twenty minutes. "I'm leaving."

Avril looked at him with surprise. "Do you never stay to the end of your own parties?"

"I have accomplished what needed to be accomplished. Now if you will mind your own business, we will leave right now." Contrary to his rude explanation, Kaiba politely offered his arm to her. Avril accepted it, and they walked out the hall with eyes watching them.

--

Moshi-Moshi is used when Japanese say "hello" but only over the phone. Therefore, for this magazine, Moshi-Moshi suggests gossip so hot that you have to pick up the phone and call somebody…corny.

Mosquitoes I know the word "paparazzi" is commonly used but I wanted to point out that it's Italian for mosquitoes.

Konban-wa means good evening.

Next chapter--stay tuned!


	10. Elements of Trust

**Elements of Trust**

Thanks for your feedback, I find it very encouraging, but don't be afraid to be critical. ;D

--

Evening relieved the August heat wave that had crushed Domino for the past week. In the comfort of his luxurious, well-air-conditioned bedroom, a prominent CEO was tormented by something other than the temperature.

Violent thumps pounded against the wall. Someone was quivering below him. Glass shattered. He could practically see the sound waves cresting and troughing brutally against his skull. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, wishing for deaf ears. Somehow--though he thought he was standing alone in this brutal noise--he felt Mokuba's hand close around his own. I'm scared, his cupid-bow lips mouthed.

The banging ruptured his chest ear-splittingly, resonating to the very core of him: _Sergei_! _Sergei_! _Sergei_! It drew closer. Kaiba clenched his teeth until they cracked. _Sergei_! _Sergei_!

_Feel nothing_, he repeated. _Do that and nothing can hurt you_.

An explosion of noise hit him. Kaiba fell back into a black hole--

"_NIKITA_!"

Nine years later Kaiba woke up in a cold sweat. He was not the eleven-year-old kid he once was. He was not locked in the bedroom he once shared with Mokuba and their cousin, Lara. Uncle Nikita was…

"Feh, for all I know the bastard's dead," he moaned, stumbling to the bathroom.

_But my association with them should be dead as well_! He thought furiously as he stood over the sink and splashed cold water on his face. His mind was alert, but the nerves and blood and gas exchanges were circulating at a blinding pace; he was thinking too fast, taking in too much at once. _Calm down_, he told himself again firmly, staring at the cold cerulean eyes in the mirror. _Feel nothing_. _You're not eleven years old, you're twenty_. _Feel nothing. Your name's not Sergei Georgevich Krupsky_. _Feel nothing. Your are Seto Kaiba, President of Kaiba Corporation_. _You are the Powerbroker_. _You are the Powerbroker_.

He washed his face again, then leaned over the porcelain sink and stared at the dripping faucet. Why were these memories coming back? _I don't have time for this nonsense_, he thought angrily. _Dwelling on the past does nothing. I have a life to live. And a company to run, dammit_.

Kaiba glanced at the clock ticking above the mirror. There was no time to think about the past; 3:00 A.M. Thursday blinked across the screen in bold red letters. He was supposed to look about finding an artist for the soundtrack of a sequel game he was drawing up. Volunteer a couple hours at the orphanage. Make his session with Nelle.

His steely eyes glanced back at his reflection. It was time to live again.

--

After dining at a few charity dinners at the start of July, Kaiba now prepared for the National Technological Innovation Awards (NTIA). Though she had never heard of it, Avril discovered that the event was very prestigous and competitive. All the big-name technological powerhouses in Japan were attending: Sony, Toshiba, Capsule Corp., Nintendo, as well as many others. This year Kaiba Corporation received six nominations--of which even Kaiba could not hide his pride--and it was utterly important that the young C.E.O. present a good face. Avril had never seen him look so enthusiastic until one Thursday afternoon.

He wouldn't listen, she could tell, when they resumed their routine on the sweltering Thursday in August. His movements were a little perfunctory (_at least he's memorized them already_, she thought) but as she explained the neck drop to him, she felt as though she were talking to a brick wall:

"Step out. Fast turn"--he spun her around one cycle--"full neck drop." She showed him that the neck drop supposed to end with Kaiba releasing (but soon catching) Avril in a dramatic collapse. But since this maneuver was done with Avril's arm in a relaxed position and both legs extended at graceful angles, she had no self-support in case one dancer slipped. The move was a difficult bit of work mainly because of the trust involved. But Avril had become accustomed to working with Kaiba for four months now, and though he was still a beginner in dance, he had the strength, flexibility and quick-thinking skills that the exercise required.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

"Yeah." Kaiba nodded vaguely.

"You sure you don't want to practice that first?"

"I said I'm ready," he snapped.

She looked at him over her shoulders and shrugged. "I trust you."

From the corner of her eye she caught a fleeting expression of--of something on his face when she said this, but she was too late to catch it. Was 'trust_'_ so foreign to him?

Kaiba started the music again, and then they came into step with the rhythm. A slight twinge of fear pinched her stomach as she settled with the notes. She tried not to think of the first time she had a partner who practiced this move with her; his clumsiness nearly cracked her skull. Kaiba pulled her close to him, spun her around, then spun her close to him again.

Avril gulped. "On the count of three. One"--they stepped out--"two"--she spun like a wooden top--"three--"

Freefall, and--

The second she released her legs and arm Kaiba was supposed to support her, but her feet lost ground and she slipped backwards and nearly slammed into the wooden floor. Somehow she had the instinct to turn before she fell on her side.

"I said we should've practiced it beforehand," she reminded him.

"I miscounted," Kaiba said rudely. "Since you trust me, you can believe that, can you?"

Avril appreciated that he did not do the gentlemanly thing and let her get up on her own feet. "It was an accident. Okay. Let's try it again."

This time he barely caught her. Annoyance twinged Avril's frown; a mistake on something like this was forgivable, even if he was distracted, but a second chance was enough of a risk against her neck. He had been like this all day. For the first time since her employment, she dared to ask him a very personal question: "What's wrong, Mr. Kaiba?"

"'What's wrong?' Nothing's wrong! I made a mistake!"

"You're not concentrating." When he would not answer, she said firmly, "I don't wanna get into your business...but you look very troubled. We can take a break--"

"I said I'm fine Nelle!"

"--or you can talk about it, if you wish."

"Feh." The cerulean eyes glared back contemptously; silence managed to say above her, not only because he was her boss and a multi-billionaire and stronger than her, but in every sense of the word. "The last thing I need is the advice of a wanna-be therapist with an associate's degree in psychology."

_Harsh __but true_, she reluctantly admitted. He paid her for dance lessons, not amateur counseling. But he was still so mysterious to her; something in him was like her, underneath all his designer wear and rudeness and the cold azure eyes that would only give away enough for her to see a peice of him.

_Was that so bad_?_ No_, she told herself stubbornly. Kaiba didn't hesitate when it came to his interests in her. Questions now and then about her research. Conversations now and then about their mutual interests in literature. And did he think she didn't notice him looking at her when her back was turned? There were so many things she wanted to ask but knew he would never answer: _Are you really like me_? _What are you thinking about me_? _Why do you look at me that way_?

Something was wrong with the dock; the song had jammed on one syllable. As Avril went to straighten out the malfunction, she muttered casually, "Do you ever speak your mind to anyone?"

"No," he said derisively.

"How did you come to that decision?"

Kaiba remembered this morning, when his mind dwelled on those darker days after his parents' deaths. It was not so long ago that Uncle Nikita abused his family in drunken fights. It was not so long ago that potential adoptive parents would turn down his requests to take both him and his younger brother, the last person he had in the world. It was not so long ago that Gozaboru, his bastard of an adopted father, kept the brothers apart for months at a time…

A person could easily drown in one's misery because he or she dwelled on bad memories. One day he just realized if he forget everything that happened he could persevere towards the destiny he knew was his.

"I have lived by it," he explained, "and wouldn't be here if it weren't for that decision. People won't spare a yen for a bum on the sidewalk, but they'll dump all their emotion on Myspace. You can't change the past. If you've a strong mind you won't remember what hurt you…it can't harm you." But this morning's events had rocked the foundation of his beliefs. As much as he tried to forget, his past was catching up.

She muted the i-Pod and looked around for anther good song. Her hands were shaking. "You can't forget that easily," she said, barely hiding her anger. "And if you can't it doesn't mean your mind is weak. Everybody experiences things differently than others."

"No, there's no other alternative," he retorted with more aggression than he meant. "I have done this. Nothing I've ever suffered bothers me anymore, though I've suffered more than you can ever possibly imagine."

Avril glanced at him; his expression was haughty as usual and his voice, though pugnacious, seemed to hide something underneath. He managed to give her a window in whatever he was trying to hide, meanwhile angering her a little, because who the hell was this stuck-up bastard to call everyone else weak and believe that he'd suffered more than anyone else?

If he only knew what happened to her after she was orphaned. According to her parents' will, eleven-year-old Avril supposed to be under the custody of her mother's family, the Cruzes, who lived in Miami. But the disappearance of the will led to an intense custody battle between the Cruzes and Avril's half-brother and -sister, Jean-Marie and Adrienne Nelle, who were the grown children of her father's ex-girlfriend. Despite the fact that Avril barely knew Jean and Adrienne, the judge made them her gaurdians and she never heard from nor saw her aunts and uncles or the United States again. She did not move back to her parents' apartment in Domino, but to instead the unfamiliar Senkawa district of Tokyo's Toshima ward.

In Senkawa the two lived in a small home and had gaurdianship over another girl, fourteen-year-old Rina Monteiro. Rina was actually Jean, Beatrice and Avril's first cousin through their father's very mentally ill aunt, who disappeared and gladly left her daughter in the "care" of her grand-neice and -nephew. Avril joined Rina as Jean and Adrienne's "courriers", required to do anything from relaying strange messages written on strips of looseleaf or powdered, white substances sealed within Ziploc bags and stuffed in their backpacks.

The errands took them to dingy neighborhoods as well as some very upscale apartments, but in either location, Avril later realized, one of them could have been attacked, raped, beaten, or possibly killed. It was of no concern to Jean and Adrienne, who benefited from their contribution to Tokyo's illegal drug traffic and locked the girls in the basement den whenever they were home. It was inevitable that the two of them depended on each other and survived better than most would in such a situation.

Three years after they adopted Avril, Jean and Adrienne's dirty work caught wind with the police, who arrested them the following autumn. Rina and Avril were given emancipation, started a new life in Domino, where they were permitted to live together without a gaurdian. It was no fairy-tale ending; they could barely support themselves and had to worry about other things beside money in the next few years, but Avril could not forget the times she was most vulnerable and the only thing she had was Rina and hope and above all God.

Avril found herself remembering this as she said, "Sometimes talking can remove a lot of pain from your chest."

"'Talking'. Is that how you deal with your issues? Talking?"

"That, and praying."

"Feh." Kaiba rolled up his sleeve collars. "I don't find comfort in 'talking'. Especially to beings that can neither be seen nor heard and therefore do not exist."

"If you're an atheist, that's fine," she said without grudge. "But I can assure you, there is nothing like knowing there is a God who loves you unconditionally even when the world hates you." _And for anyone who hasn't experienced that, I pity them_, she added silently.

_God's love_. He could vaguely remember his parents talking about that...he remembered they would take him to the small Orthodox church near their house...he used to go to church.... _No_, that was the past again, he had to quit it. The look on her face was not foolishly sappy like many believers he'd seen, but truly genuine. _Feh_. _Well, at least she trusts herself._

For whatever reason, it was only now that he realized that since he began staring at her, her gaze had met his. "Do what you want, but if you ever feel the need, I can just--"

"Thanks, but no thanks," Kaiba said gruffly. His tone was heavy with ridicule. Something in her expression must have struck him, because he abruptly offered her his hand, even though the music was still out of whack. "Enough chat. We've got a week until the Regionals. Let's practice the neck fall or whatever that thing was called."

_Oh, now you're so eager to learn it, are _you? Avril's elbows were still sore. "We've done a lot," she said with finality. "We're better off sticking to what we've learned so far. President Kaiba."

--

Still needs some editing ; we'll see how it goes. Stay tuned!!


	11. Wrong MP3!

**Wrong MP3!**

---

The next bus was long away when Avril arrived at the stop, thinking of the yet-to-be-cooked _arroz and frijoles_ awaiting for her at the apartment. She sat on the bench, unrolling her earphones, feeling bothered. Probably she felt that way at least _partly_ because the day was so hot, and at least _partly_ because she always felt sluggish on the way home after a workout, but Kaiba really upset her today.

_The last thing I need is the advice of a wanna-be therapist with an associate's degree in psychology._

As she fumbled with a knot, Avril _knew_ he was right. She had always been too curious for her own good, and she knew she had to mind her own business sometimes. But the closeness between her and Kaiba, though still subtle, was growing stronger--slowly but surely. Ironically, he said not to long ago at the Polytech event,

_You'll make a good psychologist._

Kaiba could open slowly one minute and shut himself up the next; for a fleeting second you could almost think he was your friend, and then before you knew it, you had better call him "Mr. President". That's _if _he gave you a couple seconds to know him better.

The ends finally came apart in her fingers and she put the phones in. She turned her iPod on, flipped through songs with her head against the bus station's glass pane and her eyes closed, and picked a song at random.

Unexpectedly she heard a lengthy piano piece with an instrumental background. It was good and would be better with some lyrics, but she didn't remember downloading it. She looked through the playlist and discovered a collection of mostly Classical works and unrecognizable titles. _This isn't my iPod. Did we uses Kaiba's today?_ _We did. Crap._ Now she had to take it back to Kaiba Quarters, because she couldn't live without her music and Kaiba probably couldn't either.

---

After the lesson Kaiba took his iPod (which had miraculously buzzed dead even after charging it all), put it to charge and called Mokuba.

"Hey, bro!"

The kid was funny. Kaiba smiled rather perfunctorily at the sound of his cheerful voice. "Hey, Mokuba." His brother was out with friends for the day. "When are you coming home?"

"Seto, Jiro's mom said we could stay over; that okay?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks, Seto."

"See you later. Tomorrow."

"Later!"

Kaiba's smile faded. He sat at the piano and flipped through his neat folder of sheet music, picking his newest piece. It was a new song for the soundtrack of a sequel game he was making. Earlier today, after he visited Domino Orphanage, he listened to some test recordings of a some artists--the lead singer of Rin, Ayumi Hamasaki, Leona Lewis--a couple others, but he had yet to make his decision. He needed a voice that was both light and strong, and overall, very supple. Most people knew him only as a businessman and an expert Duelist, but he was also a very talented pianist.

His mother Anoush was a former ballerina and tried to encourage his artistic talents. She placed him in a ballet class at age three, perhaps hoping to immerse him in the dance while he was still too young to pick up societal gender biases. (Needless to say, ballet didn't work out.) When he turned five he took piano lessons and began a lifelong affair with the piano. By age eight, he was writing his own songs and kept the sheet music in his father's file cabinet, so his father could show it off to friends and family. In the orphanage he practically owned the keyboard and maybe composed a furious pace of two songs a week. (Later he donated several instruments, including a decent piano, for the orphanage.) But after Gozaboru adopted him, Kaiba was forbidden to play, although he still composed many songs and constructed his own mechanical piano or played the various ones in the mansion, in privacy.

At times Kaiba felt closer to the piano than he did with people. The relationship was almost intimate. He felt the power of notes building under his hands, every sound rolling cleanly from his fingertips, expressing in music what he simply could not express in words…

There was a soft humming behind him.

He stopped playing and looked over his shoulder.

Nelle. She stood behind him with her arms crossed in front of her, leaning on one leg. The slight smile on her face faded a little. "I'm sorry," she apologized quickly. "I didn't mean to come in without knocking, but I was outside a while and the door was open, and I heard you playing…"

For a strange moment, Kaiba couldn't think. _What_?

"…and you left this."

She set an iPod on the piano top; it was identical to his. No--it _was_ his, he realized.

"I'm sorry," she said again.

He rubbed his forehead, suppressing the wordless emotions that trembled beneath him. "Nevermind. It's okay, Nelle. Uh, I have your iPod charging there."

"Oh. Thanks." She sounded relieved. "That's…a really good song you were playing. What's it called, if I may ask?"

"For now, 'Simple and Clean.'"

"Interesting. Did you write it?"

"Yeah. How did you know?" he asked suspiciously.

"I didn't. But you're a very natural pianist, I can tell." He looked so involved with his music. Avril was surprised yet not surprised. It took so much effort for him to reach the same comfort level with dancing, such that he relied almost too heavily on music to reach that level. When she walked in, she felt like she was intruding on a private moment, and Kaiba exhibited expressions she had never seen on him. He looked much less agitated now than he did earlier, though when he noticed her, he covered the piano keys as though hiding a shameful secret, as though afraid to appear vulnerable. His long-fingered hands were a little sweaty; perhaps they were cold, too.

"Thank you," he said at last.

"How long have you been playing?"

"About fifteen years, now. Do you play?"

He would have expected her to at least know a little instrumental music, but she shook her head No. "I can't even play a Do-Re-Mi on one of those plastic recorders."

Kaiba grinned with amusement.

Avril's fingers traced across the piano's highly-polished, black surface. "Are there no lyrics?"

"Actually, there are." He flipped to the beginning of the sheet music and showed them to her. As she studied them, Kaiba wondered--for the heck of it--if he should try out Nelle's voice. He had never heard her sing, she wasn't a professional and she probably wasn't be the voice he was looking for, but now that he was sitting at a piano with a voice at his disposal, he should use it. "Go on, give it a shot." He flipped the cover open and spread his fingers on the keys, waiting.

"Um…"

"What?"

"I don't know how to read music."

He looked at her incredulously. "How the heck can you work at your club and not know…?"

"I learn by ear," she said dismissively. "Just--just play a little, and I'll catch up. Trust me."

Now even less sure, Kaiba began to play having memorized the piece. He studied Nelle's hand, which lay across the piano's surface, the fingers tapping rhythmically. When he began again, she sang:

_The daily things, like this and that_

_That keep us all busy_

_Are confusing me…_

_That's when you came to me..._

_And said_

_Wish I could prove myself to you_

_But does that mean I have to walk...on water?_

_When we are older you'll understand_

_It's enough_

_When I say so_

_And maybe, some things are that simple_

He listened to her and could close his eyes without thinking. Here it was! It was light and soft enough but not too much so that it did not persevere through the notes. There were mistakes, but otherwise Nelle delivered almost every word effortlessly…

_When you walk away_

_You won't hear me say_

_Please...oh baby_

_Don't go_

_Simple and clean is the way I go, tonight_

_It's hard to let it go--_

"Enough," he said.

She lowered his sheet music. "So?"

"Very good," he said, but she was actually very, very good. How could she have managed that song in a few seconds? "You have a unique voice."

"Well, there is only one voice per person…" she shrugged a little too dismissively.

"Avril. That was a compliment. So you're welcome." He stood up. "Have you ever recorded?"

He noticed a very slight red coloring barely visible under her amber complexion. "No."

"Well, I'm offering you a chance to record this song for my new soundtrack."

Avril looked perplexed, as well as a little embarassed. "Do you sing too…?"

"No, it's a soundtrack for my new game. Are you going to take it or what?"

"Thank-you. It's just that I've--I've never done that before."

"I think you should do it." His tone hung between persuasion and coercion. "I mean, you're no professional, but you definitely had the voice I had in mind, and you can learn how to read music as well as hone your skills. It's a win-win. So enough shyness."

She smiled. "All right then. Thanks, Mr. Kaiba."

"Seto. You can say that if you want." He pushed the sheet music back to her. "Just stay a couple minutes. Let me hear that again."

And they started the music again.

_---_

Disclaimer: I do not, again, I do not own or profit from YuGiOh, Utada Hikaru's "Simple and Clean," both the rightful property of their respective owners.

Sorry for the long update! Sometimes things get hectic. :P


	12. You Don't Have To

**You Don't Need To**

By the way, "Simple and Clean" sounds amazing on piano. And yes, sparks ***fly***;)

Since there was a ceasefire today, this chapter is humbly dedicated to all lives lost in the Gaza conflict.

---

I mind how once we lay such a transparent summer morning,  
How you settled your head athwart my hips and gently turn'd over  
upon me,  
And parted the shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your tongue  
to my bare-stript heart,  
And reach'd till you felt my beard, and reach'd till you held my  
feet.

--Walt Whitman

"Song of Myself", _Leaves of Grass_

19th-century American poet

---

Sundown came fast.

It was kinda funny. Avril didn't know what a pianist her boss was until he played a few more samples of his original music. (He didn't play too many though; she figured his talent was much more of a private pursuit than his others.) She chanced it, and asked if he would sing a few lyrics, but he wouldn't give her so much as a quarter note. "That's not what I do," he said, then turned to the keyboard and played again. Avril admired how fluid his fingers were. He could even play Bach and Chopin with his eyes closed. If music was a language, Kaiba could convey it perfectly.

And Kaiba thought it was funny too, that Avril had The Magic Ear and Voice a recording studio looked for, but when he looked at sheet music and heard the sounds unfolding in his head, she only saw a jumble of nonsense strokes on the page. He felt inclined to give her a lesson and tried to teach her how to read the music the way he was learned at age five, in long strings of "ma-ma-ma" and "ti-ti-ti", and where these notes fit on the piano in relation to Middle C. Then he showed her how to play the watered down version of "Simple and Clean". Avril's hands fumbled, and she wished her fingers could trail across the keys as fluidly as water trails across its course, like his hands.

Every time she heard the notes she wondered if there was a story behind it, so she asked him.

"A story?" he repeated as he started the first stanza. "Hmm." He frowned a little. "In the plot," he explained, "one of my characters finds that the only way he can prove himself is by joining the war and leaving his loved ones behind. One of them is his girlfriend."

"Oh. So it's something of a love story?"

He shrugged. "Why d'you ask?"

Avril caught the hesitation. Was the song a bit of his autobiography too? She could not ask how much personal experience Kaiba invested in this song. Not only would he refuse to answer, he would also close the openness they shared. They did very little talking aside from talking about music, and so on. "Well," she said, "maybe...you can revise the lyrics a little."

"What?"

"If this is a love story, you could make it a little more romantic. Like, instead of 'Simple and clean is the way I go tonight,' how about, 'Simple and clean is the way you...make me feel tonight'? Or instead of, 'Wish I could prove myself to you,' how about, 'Wish I could prove I love you'?"

His gaze sharpened a little, and she doubted he would take her opinion seriously. "You don't think so?" she asked.

Just as he was about to say something his phone went off. He flipped it open and answered. "Kaiba." The voice at the other end was pretty loud, although she didn't catch what the caller had to say, Kaiba seemed very annoyed.

"I hired you to handle stuff like that, didn't i?" he snapped threateningly. "No, no, don't get all renegade now, you stay where you are. I'm coming in five."

He shut off the phone and pocketed. Then he took a pen from his breast pocket and put it on the piano top. "Sell it. Show me it'ill make a difference. Rewrite a couple lyrics, then sing it back to me."

"Oh. Okay then."

"I'll be back in fifteen. Just make yourself comfortable or whatever."

Meanwhile Avril made a few very quick adjustments and was surprised to see how liberally she had edited the song. Would he accept the changes? _Oh well_, she thought. _It's his hitmaker..._

Then tried to remember how to play it, the so-called easy version of the song. She got through the first few notes okay, at a decent speed, but it wasn't long before her fingers slipped past the keys and had to practice over and over again like a broken record. _Is this right_? She thought, listening carefully. _No_. The sound was definitely off.

"What is it? 'Simple and clean...' That's the right note." She played it again and tried to sing along. "Simple and clean is the way...that you're making me feel, to-night'--no, that's wrong. 'Tonight--tonight--tonight'--" she continued to struggle through the chorus. "Shit. 'Tonight--'"

"This way."

Kaiba had returned. He stood behind her and put his hands on the keys, producing the richer sounds as he picked up the first chorus.

He showed her the example again with one hand and told her to, "Keep playing. It's nearly right." He continued playing the chorus over, until she got it right. "Correct. Keep playing."

Avril felt her face, neck and shoulders flush warm. She managed to get the next stanza all right; Kaiba guided her with directions, correcting her mistakes with "like this" and "like that" between playing the more elaborate notes with his free hand.

The music softened in the middle. She looked at his hands; they were very nice. He had with long fingers and well-cared for nails that looked gentle yet strong. Avril felt his cheek pressed against her hair.

"Is that right?" she murmured.

He nodded against her head, Yes. "So sing it. Your way."

Avril turned around to face him and leaned against the piano while he continued playing with his hands at either side of her waist. She sang. Their faces were very close; Kaiba's eyes were a little dilated but their gaze was still intense, intently trying to meet hers. She looked up, still wondering stupidly if this was what she thought it was, and in her nervousness she completely missed a stanza. Their foreheads and noses were touching. He continued playing. Hesitantly she raised her hands to his face and gently caressed his lips with her thumb. They parted; he moved closer. Avril met his lips with hers.

He continued playing. Kaiba's hands skipped fluidly across the keys. He felt her arm wrap around his shoulder. Her free hand still caressed his face. When he thought she would break away, she did not, and neither did he. On the next chorus, Kaiba dropped his hands from the keyboard and lifted her on the piano top and leaned over her. When he tried to kiss her neck, she nudged her shoulder a little bit.

"Hmm. Ticklish, are you?" he whispered heavily against her mouth.

"Uh-uh. Above the chin limits."

To her relief, he grinned. "Your way, then."

When he leaned forward again the piano creaked heavily; they came down for fear that the cover would break. Avril smoothed her blouse as Kaiba ran a hand through his hair. _This_ he had never done before! Shit, what was wrong with him? A million thanks to whatever divine entity above that Mokuba just happened to be sleeping over at a friend's; the _LAST_ thing Kaiba had in mind was to make out on his £40,000, pre-World War II Mountbatten piano.

Avril glanced at the clock. "It's late," she said finally. "I should go…" As she reached for her purse, he said something very surprising:

"You don't need to."

She had to look at him again. If you didn't look at his eyes carefully, you might think this was the same Kaiba: rigid-backed, surly, and with his arms crossed. The expression in his eyes though was strong enough that she knew this was more than just a polite invitation to stay over. He was open. If she didn't turn soon she'd look dumb just staring at him as her mouth tremmored a little, wanting to feel his mouth again. The bad thing about lust, she knew, is that it can go too far--the piano thing was a perfect metaphor of that. These were her problems: How much was he going to expect? The same as he expected from Christian von Whateverschmidt? She would never go that far with a man before she said the vows. And even if she kept everything on her terms, if she stayed and did as little as chat the rest of the evening, she knew he would close up again. It would do neither of them any good if she "stayed over."

"No, I should go home."

Kaiba felt a slight twinge of disappointment but asked, "Would you allow me to drop you off then?"

After a moment she said, "Thank-you. Seto."


End file.
